


My Soul in His Eyes

by weepingnaiad



Series: Bliss is your mark on my skin [3]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Ten years ago to this very day, Sam ran away.  Jim usually marks the anniversary of his life turning to hell with pain.  This year, Bones has a different idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Soul in His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** the most awesome beta in the Multi-verse, abigail89. Thank you, bb! Don’t know what I’d do without you!
> 
>  **A/N:** Fill for kink bingo card square: _mirrors_. This is in the same 'verse as [Iridescent](http://weepingnaiad.livejournal.com/126629.html) and [Blissfully So](http://weepingnaiad.livejournal.com/100167.html) but should work as a standalone.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters and the worlds they live in belong to the Master, Roddenberry, and possibly a media conglomerate but that's waaay over my head. I am only borrowing them so they can come out and frolic a bit, not intending any copyright infringement of any sort. I do own my original characters, but they are available for parties!

Nervous energy thrummed through Jim. A vigorous run followed by TA’ing two sessions of hand-to-hand hadn’t been able to stop the skittering under his skin, couldn’t silence the rapid-fire sparks along his spine. Not even a long hot shower at the gym had taken the edge off. He _itched_ as he walked, a snarl burbling up at the grunts of those he careened into.

His heart sped up as the old medical dorm loomed into view. He didn’t bother with the lift, just raced up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, his heart thundering and breath coming out in sharp puffs by the time he reached Bones’ floor. He entered Bones’ code with rapid taps and stepped into the room.

Two weeks. Two weeks since he and Bones had last been together. Two weeks culminating in the shitfest that was this day of all days. Between Commander Murdock’s outright incompetence and the overwrought, but patently false, sympathy from his _Federation History_ professor, Jim was angrier than he’d been since he joined up. And somehow Bones knew that, or it felt like he did when his comm pinged and there was Bones’ message blinking at him, ordering him to be here when he got off shift. Adrenaline and lust coursed through his system and he felt like he’d explode if Bones didn’t touch him right fuckin’ now!

He growled but pulled the punch aimed at the wall. Bones would be pissed if he came home from a long shift and had to tend to Jim’s damaged knuckles, even moreso if he got a hole in the wall to go with them. Jim’s eyes landed on Bones’ toybox sitting prominently on his desk. He opened it and reached in, his fingers finding and lingering on the smooth leather collar before he pulled out the flogger and cane. He hissed out the breath he’d been holding as he remembered the first kiss of the slim, flexible rod against his backside. Bones hadn’t told him anything besides a time to arrive and they had been working on Jim using his words. Decision made. In less than thirty seconds, he was naked and kneeling, his breath slowing along with his heartbeat, the cane resting atop the toybox in silent entreaty, all the request Jim would allow himself.

He slipped into position, closing his eyes as he began to catalog each muscle for tension, forcing the tightness out painfully, slowly, one muscle group at a time, just as Bones had taught him to do. What used to be an exercise in frustration had now become soothing and calming, Bones’ drawl echoing in his ears along with the ghost of his touch skating over Jim’s skin which pebbled in unbidden response.

As he settled, his respiration and heart rate returning to base levels, his brain and skin no longer sparking, he opened his eyes. The room was still, silent. Bones was late. Bones was _never_ late, not without letting Jim know.

Jim’s stomach plummeted, his pulse skyrocketed, and his eyes darted around the room. Before he could call out, the comm clicked on.

“Jim?”

Jim’s head swiveled to look at the vid screen, puzzled to see Bones’ soft smile staring at him. He didn’t dwell on how Bones had managed to remotely activate the thing. Relief coursed through his veins, but he didn’t give into it. Not today. Instead, he barked out, “Bones? What the hell, man?”

“Sorry, darlin’. I just got out of surgery. I knew you’d be there by now and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jim peered up at Bones and silently acknowledged that he looked like hell. Beat down and exhausted, run ragged was the measure of it. He had said on more than one occasion that the Academy was filled with too many idiots with more brains than sense and every last one of them ending up at Medical. _’Just because you **can,** doesn’t mean you **should,** goddammit!’_ Looks like today must have been one of those days that proved it.

“I’m okay, Bones. Just…” His voice trailed off. He still wasn’t good at asking for what he needed, really hadn’t had to so far. Bones seemingly knew before he had to ask.

“You did the right thing, darlin’. Just what I told you to.” Bones’ voice was reassuring, comforting and Jim’s panic was already forgotten. He was wrapped up and safe in those bourbon rich vowels. “I’ll be there soon, Jim. Don’t move and don’t dare touch yourself. That’s mine.”

Jim nodded, his breath stolen by the deeply possessive tone.

~~*~~

By the time the door opened and Bones’ presence filled the room, Jim’s muscles were twitching with fatigue, his mouth was dry, his cheeks were streaked with tears he didn’t remember crying, he wasn’t hard, and his mind was floating, the fever-bright tension burned out by the simple act of _not moving._ He’d laugh if he wasn’t afraid he’d breakdown completely. Who knew being still took so damned much effort?

He didn’t open his eyes, wasn’t sure he could at the moment. They felt gummy and abraded.

The air in the room shifted and Jim cataloged Bones’ every move, his posture straightening minutely. He heard a thud as Bones’ bag hit the sofa, two shoes thumped under the table, a rustle of fabric as his scrubs fell to the floor, then the blessed sound of water running. Almost immediately, a warm weight was behind him, large hands soothing out the knots and easing him back until he sprawled, his head lolling on Bones’ shoulder. “Drink up, sugar,” was murmured into his ear as a glass of cool water was pressed to his lips.

Jim drank greedily until the cup was pulled away. “Go easy there, darlin’.”

He nodded and the water was back, its life blood restoring and refreshing.

A tender thumb slid over his cheeks, wiping away the tracks before soft lips touched his. “So beautiful. My bright-eyed, beautiful boy,” brushed over his skin. He sighed as those lips pressed lower, circled his throat with gentle kisses.

Jim hummed languidly, his mind still not firing on all cylinders even though his body responded eagerly as one warm hand held him while the other stroked and caressed, lighting a fire under his skin. “Bones,” he begged, his voice raw.

“Shhhh. I got you. You did good. Perfect.”

Jim kept drifting, lazily arching into Bones hands, even as he let himself be held, petted, and teased until he was growing breathless and shifting hungrily. He wanted more, so much more, tried to get the words out, to ask for the cane, but the words refused to come.

A warm chuckle brushed over his neck before smooth leather wrapped and tightened around him. He felt the clasp close and gasped, his eyes flying open and chest heaving.

“C’mon. Up you go.” Bones was standing and grasped his hand to help pull him upright. He swayed, but Bones had him, steadied him. Always did.

Once Jim was standing without wobbling too badly, Bones knelt down and began to chafe his legs from his tingling thighs down to his numb feet. He cursed at the pins and needles, but just rested a hand on Bones’ shoulder for balance, moving when directed, his body not his own.

Bones worked his muscles, easing out the cramps until Jim was lax under his hands. Sitting back on his heels, he looked up at Jim, his forehead creased with concern but his eyes were vivid, intense, drew Jim in, held him safe. “Thank you for asking, Jim.”

He stood up, lifted Jim’s chin and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I know you’re angry. I also know that in the past, you’ve dealt with this feeling by fighting or rough fucking, using physical pain to blot out the emotional.” He stroked his fingers slowly over the collar before cupping Jim’s head in his hand. “Do you trust me, Jim?”

Jim was confused, frustrated. He communicated the idiocy of the question with a roll of his eyes. Of course he trusted Bones!

“I don’t doubt you, sugar. I just want to put the cane away. Have something else in mind.” Bones’ voice was calm, confident. He had no doubts so Jim didn’t. Couldn’t.

Jim’s jaw clenched, clamped shut. He met Bones’ eyes and nodded curtly, trusting that Bones understood.

“Good.” Bones moved away, made a show of putting away the crop. There was symbolism in his act, Jim was sure, but he didn’t have time to think about it because Bones was back at his side, tugging him close. Jim clutched his hand, entwining their fingers and swallowing any unease; their physical connection as important to Jim as air.

“Got something to show you,” Bones murmured as he turned toward the bedroom.

Then Jim was moving, following. He needed whatever Bones was willing to offer, even if he had hoped to be claimed, beaten, held down, fucked into tomorrow -- anything to keep the destructive anger from eating him alive. Jim stayed close at Bones’ heels, until he was directed to stand in front of him. They were facing the closet, barely visible in the dim rays of the setting sun filtering in through the window.

Before Jim could ask, Bones ordered, “Lights, fifty percent.”

The lights drifted up and Jim found himself staring at his own reflection in a full length mirror. He swallowed and ducked his eyes. He really didn’t want to meet his own gaze. Not right now.

“Jim.” Bones’ voice was firm. “Look at me, kid.”

Jim started to turn his head, but Bones reached up, pressed his face up and forward. “Through the mirror, Jim.”

Jim struggled with that command, finding it harder than almost anything Bones had ever ordered him to do. His eyes refused to meet Bones’, or his own; instead, they flitted around the room, lingered on Bones’ bare feet, slid up the long, lean legs still encased in his cadet reds. Jim lost himself for a moment, thinking about how only Bones could make the fugly reds look hot.

“Jim!” Bones barked.

Jim started and looked directly into the mirror, meeting Bones’ eyes. He shuddered, tried to pull away, but was held fast, pinned by those eyes boring into his soul.

One strong arm wrapped around his waist, held him in place, the other stroked over the planes of his chest and abdomen, slid to his hips, then back up to skate over his collarbone before settling under his chin forcing him to keep watching. “I need you to listen to me, Jim. And it’s important that you keep your eyes open. Can you do that?”

Jim swallowed, he really didn’t want to do this not now. Not today of all fucking days. He twitched, his mouth nearly forming the word that would free him from this, those three syllables that would end this, no questions asked. His lips parted, but his throat seized up, closed off, refusing to utter even a whisper.

“Jim, darlin’, nod if you can’t vocalize.”

From somewhere deep inside of him, he nodded. He didn’t want to face this, but that place inside of him that had responded to Bones from the first wouldn’t let him hide. He licked his lips and felt bile rise up as Bones started talking.

“Gorgeous. You are so beautiful, Jim.” Bones’ voice was low, rumbling against his ear, but Jim tried to blot it out. He didn’t feel beautiful or anything but hollow at the moment.

“The most amazing man I’ve ever met. So damned smart and generous. I passed my flight test because of you. Gaila passed linguistics because of you. Hell, even that asshole, Mitchell, isn’t going to get kicked out because of you, much as I think he’d deserve to.”

Jim tried to close his eyes, shake his head, shut out all the words that didn’t feel like the truth, that couldn’t be for _him,_ but Bones just kissed his ear and continued. “None of that. You keep looking and listening, ya’ hear?”

“James T. Kirk, pain in the ass extraordinaire, is the only one that could have dragged my butt through all those idiotic first-year courses and kept me sane. You, darlin’, are beautiful and brilliant, and we’re not moving from here ‘til you acknowledge it.”

“Bones,” Jim protested. He ached, more inside than out, but his cock was at half mast, unable to help itself when held like this, Bones’ strong arm wrapped tight around him, grounding him, his warm body firm and taut against Jim’s back. “I-I _can’t._ Not today.”

“I got you, kid. No matter what happened on this day so long ago, nothing is going to change that. I believe in you enough for both of us.”

Jim sagged, borne under by the weight of that declaration. He shook his head. All he could see in the mirror were his failings, his shortcomings: the pain in the ass little brother, the son whose face made the light dim in his mother’s eyes, the smartass nephew who made a convenient punching bag, the cock sucking layabout, the mouthy student. He couldn’t find evidence of what Bones was seeing.

“Just watch.” Bones’ voice was warm and soothing, steadying. He removed his hand from Jim’s chin, but Jim didn’t look away. He was tethered to Bones’ eyes, held fast by their shining confidence. “I want you to see what I do, darlin’.”

Jim nodded, his breath caught in his lungs.

“Breathe for me, sugar.”

Jim drew in a lungful of air, his muscles twitching randomly, every instinct fighting the enforced stillness, the command to _see._ Bones believed in Jim and that belief, that confidence, that total faith in Jim had dragged him back from the brink, kept him from overreacting too many times. He could do this… for Bones.

Jim had gotten lost in his thoughts, in his memories, far too many of them surfacing today. He was split open and raw, cracked and chafing, fighting against the world, against the loss, against being so fucking helpless.

“Jim. Here with me. Now.” Jim startled, he blinked and looked in the mirror, met Bones’ eyes, so green, vivid, radiant just for him.

“I got you, darlin’. Just for today you’ve got to turn off that big brain of yours. Quit thinking and _feel._ ” Jim was still pinned, held tight by Bones’ arm and his intent gaze.

Jim nodded minutely and suddenly that second hand was back, slick with fragrant oil and stroking, caressing, massaging along the planes of Jim’s chest and abdomen. Bones’ breath brushed his ear. “You can’t see it, but you are mine. Marked. Claimed. My brand, my very DNA is etched into your skin. Only I get to see you like this. Needy, desperate, hungry, clinging. Only I know what you need. Only I can take you apart and put you back together. Ain’t that right?”

Jim shuddered and bit back a cry, his throat closing involuntarily, shutting out the pleading cries, the desperation, the overwhelming fear of losing Bones that would have forced him to his knees if Bones hadn’t been holding him up. His knees buckled, but he didn’t fall. Bones had him.

“You might have convinced yourself that you’re a failure, that you’re worthless, but I know better. Every day you show the world just how amazing you are.” He felt Bones’ smile against his neck. “I love you, kid.”

Even though Jim could see only two hands stroking his skin, leaving shiny trails in their wake, it felt like Bones had turned multi-limbed. He unerringly stroked and teased, caressing Jim with his hands as well as his words. And Jim kept his eyes open throughout. He never stopped staring into those hazel eyes that held his entire world. So caught up in Bones’ voice, he missed the hand nudging his cock at first.

But then the warm grip tightened, Bones’ voice lowering to a husky purr. “I want you to see what I do when I make love to you, Jim. You’re going to keep your eyes open, aren’t you, darlin’?”

Jim moaned, still at a loss, but he nodded and Bones’ large hand stroked more firmly, teased the slit, slid to grip his balls, and quickly brought him to the edge. He hung there, waiting for the word, his eyes locked with Bones’, whose face was flushed and his breath panting against Jim’s sweaty skin.

“Come for me.”

And he did. Lightning roared through him as he tensed and shuddered. It felt as though he was in freefall, the sky zooming by him as the ground rushed up to greet him. He could barely focus on his body and face, his reflection was frozen in a near soundless cry, mouth gaping and eyes mere slits, their blue near laser-bright. Bones milked the last drop from him and it wasn’t his own reflection that forced the breath from his lungs. It was the emotion on Bones’ face. His eyes were filled with bright, possessive desire and blinding love. How could Jim have missed that? Bones said the words, demonstrated them with concern and care, but nothing had pierced his doubts and insecurities like seeing it writ large in photons. Undeniable.

His legs gave way and they tumbled, ending up on the floor where he scrambled into Bones’ arms. He laughed aloud as Bones’ grumbled, “At least let me--” And instead of letting Bones wipe his hand, Jim licked it, slow and teasing. Bones’ head thumped to the floor and each flick of Jim’s tongue dragged a harsh groan from his lips.

“Dammit, Jim!”

“I love you, Bones.”

Bones lifted to his elbows and looked at Jim, the appraising stare making Jim suddenly nervous once again. “You okay, darlin’?”

Jim nodded, his grin turning into a leer. Bones hadn’t come and he was still looking at Jim with that need and love that made Jim wonder what he’d done to deserve such a thing. He pressed his knee between Bones’ legs and nudged his still hard cock, but was stopped by a hand firm on his back.

Bones was shaking his head. “I’ll take care of myself.”

“But!”

“Get in that bed. No arguin’.”

“But I want--”

Bones kissed him, soft and slow, his tongue claiming as he continued, lips pressed tight until Jim forgot his own name. He pulled away, gasping and stunned, but complied once he was shoved up.

“We’ll talk in the mornin’. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

Jim tumbled into the bed, scooting to the wall before tugging the blankets up to his chin. _Shit!_ He had been so caught up in his own issues that he’d forgotten that Bones had spent a long portion of his day in surgery, not to mention TA’ing a class. When Jim looked up at Bones who reached a warm palm to caress his cheek, he felt guilty and unworthy.

“None of that. You close your eyes at least. I’ll join you after I shower.”

“But, Boooones,” he whined. That tone always got a rise out of Bones.

Bones was undressing and Jim watched through his lashes.

“No.”

And that tone, that steel did more to dissuade Jim than his own lethargy. They would talk about it tomorrow and maybe then he’d be able to tell Bones exactly what happened ten years ago; the turn of events that led to the best years of his life before Bones; how he’d lost everything and never believed he’d have something worth fighting for again. Now he had something better. He settled, listening to Bones humming in the shower, the soft strains lulling him to sleep before Bones returned.

The End


End file.
